Murad the Unlucky, and Other Tales
Page 17
CHAPTER XI
"Cosi rozzo diamante appena splende Dalla rupe natia quand' esce fuora, E a poco a poco lucido se rende Sotto l'attenta che lo lavora."
Madame de Fleury joined her husband, who was in London, and they bothlived in the most retired and frugal manner. They had too much of thepride of independence to become burthensome to their generous Englishfriends. Notwithstanding the variety of difficulties they had toencounter, and the number of daily privations to which they were forcedto submit, yet they were happy--in a tranquil conscience, in their mutualaffection, and the attachment of many poor but grateful friends. A fewmonths after she came to England, Madame de Fleury received, by a privatehand, a packet of letters from her little pupils. Each of them, even theyoungest, who had but just begun to learn joining-hand, would write a fewlines in this packet.
In various hands, of various sizes, the changes were rung upon thesesimple words:--
"MY DEAR MADAME DE FLEURY,
"I love you--I wish you were here again--I will be _very very_ good whilst you are away. If you stay away ever so long, I shall never forget you, nor your goodness; but I hope you will soon be able to come back, and this is what I pray for every night. Sister Frances says I may tell you that I am very good, and Victoire thinks so too."
This was the substance of several of their little letters. Victoire'scontained rather more information:--
"You will be glad to learn that dear Sister Frances is safe, and that the good chestnut-woman, in whose cellar she took refuge, did not get into any difficulty. After you were gone, M. T--- said that he did not think it worth while to pursue her, as it was only you he wanted to humble. Manon, who has, I do not know how, means of knowing, told me this. Sister Frances is now with her abbess, who, as well as everybody else that knows her, is very fond of her. What was a convent is no longer a convent--the nuns are turned out of it. Sister Frances' health is not so good as it used to be, though she never complains. I am sure she suffers much; she has never been the same person since that day when we were driven from our happy schoolroom. It is all destroyed--the garden and everything. It is now a dismal sight. Your absence also afflicts Sister Frances much, and she is in great anxiety about all of us. She has the six little ones with her every day in her own apartment, and goes on teaching them as she used to do. We six eldest go to see her as often as we can. I should have begun, my dear Madame de Fleury, by telling you, that, the day after you left Paris, I went to deliver all the letters you were so very kind to write for us in the midst of your hurry. Your friends have been exceedingly good to us, and have got places for us all. Rose is with Madame la Grace, your mantua-maker, who says she is more handy and more expert at cutting out than girls she has had these three years. Marianne is in the service of Madame de V---, who has lost a great part of her large fortune, and cannot afford to keep her former waiting-maid. Madame de V--- is well pleased with Marianne, and bids me tell you that she thanks you for her. Indeed, Marianne, though she is only fourteen, can do everything her lady wants. Susanne is with a confectioner. She gave Sister Frances a box of _bonbons_ of her own making this morning; and Sister Frances, who is a judge, says they are excellent--she only wishes you could taste them. Annette and I (thanks to your kindness!) are in the same service with Madame Feuillot, the _brodeuse_, to whom you recommended us. She is not discontented with our work, and, indeed, sent a very civil message yesterday to Sister Frances on this subject; but believe it is too flattering for me to repeat in this letter. We shall do our best to give her satisfaction. She is glad to find that we can write tolerably, and that we can make out bills and keep accounts, this being particularly convenient to her at present, as the young man she had in the shop is become an orator, and good for nothing but _la chose publique_; her son, who could have supplied his place, is ill; and Madame Feuillot herself, not having had, as she says, the advantage of such a good education as we have been blessed with, writes but badly, and knows nothing of arithmetic. Dear Madame de Fleury, how much, how very much we are obliged to you! We feel it every day more and more; in these times what would have become of us if we could do nothing useful? Who would, who could be burdened with us? Dear madame, we owe everything to you--and we can do nothing, not the least thing for you! My mother is still in bad health, and I fear will never recover; Babet is with her always, and Sister Frances is very good to her. My brother Maurice is now so good a workman that he earns a louis a week. He is very steady to his business, and never goes to the revolutionary meetings, though once he had a great mind to be an orator of the people, but never since the day that you explained to him that he knew nothing about equality and the rights of men, &c. How could I forget to tell you, that his master the smith, who was one of your guards, and who assisted you to escape, has returned without suspicion to his former trade? and he declares that he will never more meddle with public affairs. I gave him the money you left with me for him. He is very kind to my brother. Yesterday Maurice mended for Annette's mistress the lock of an English writing-desk, and he mended it so astonishingly well, that an English gentleman, who saw it, could not believe the work was done by a Frenchman; so my brother was sent for, to prove it, and they were forced to believe it. To-day he has more work than he can finish this twelve-month--all this we owe to you. I shall never forget the day when you promised that you would grant my brother's wish to be apprenticed to the smith, if I was not in a passion for a month; that cured me of being so passionate.
"Dear Madame de Fleury, I have written you too long a letter, and not so well as I can write when I am not in a hurry; but I wanted to tell you everything at once, because, may be, I shall not for a long time have so safe an opportunity of sending a letter to you.
"VICTOIRE."
Several months elapsed before Madame do Fleury received another letterfrom Victoire; it was short and evidently written in great distress ofmind. It contained an account of her mother's death. She was now leftat the early age of sixteen an orphan. Madame Feuillot, the _brodeuse_,with whom she lived, added few lines to her letter, penned withdifficulty and strangely spelled, but, expressive of her being highlypleased with both the girls recommended to her by Madame de Fleury,especially Victoire, who she said was such a treasure to her, that shewould not part with her on any account, and should consider her as adaughter. "I tell her not to grieve so much; for though she has lost onemother she has gained another for herself, who will always love her; andbesides she is so useful, and in so many ways, with her pen and herneedle, in accounts, and everything that is wanted in a family or a shop;she can never want employment or friends in the worst times, and none canbe worse than these, especially for such pretty girls as she is, who haveall their heads turned, and are taught to consider nothing a sin thatused to be sins. Many gentlemen, who come to our shop, have found outthat Victoire is very handsome, and tell her so; but she is so modest andprudent that I am not afraid for her. I could tell you, madame, a goodanecdote on this subject, but my paper will not allow, and, besides, mywriting is so difficult."
Above a year elapsed before Madame de Fleury received another letter fromVictoire: this was in a parcel, of which an emigrant took charge; itcontained a variety of little offerings from her pupils, instances oftheir ingenuity, their industry, and their affection; the last thing inthe packet was a small purse labelled in this manner--
"_Savings from our wages and earnings for her who taught us all weknow_."